


The conference

by Sunyiu2



Series: Red Iris [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Family Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Slash, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 19:17:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunyiu2/pseuds/Sunyiu2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a long conference the colleagues of Mycroft are daydreaming about Lestrade when he arrives to the office.</p><p>Now beta'd!!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The conference

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to a lovely and awesome JessieBlackwood for helping me and my poor grammar. You are amazing :)

It was the end of a punishing week-long meeting for Mycroft and his team. They had been called together to organise damage control after a member of Parliament had been found nearly lifeless, which was bad enough, but Alan Franklin, MP for Shipley, had also been in the company of a dead prostitute. The whole team had gathered to watch the record of the previous day’s police press conference headed by Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade who was leading the investigation. As the inspector laid the case out before the reporters the whole room was silent and attentive. There were eight people in the room and all of them were glued to the report as it unfolded before them. They had all been there since the day the dead woman had been found. They were exhausted, and none of them had slept much, but their attention was riveted on the flat screen in front of them.  
  
“That is one handsome man,” murmured the short blond woman at the head of the table.  
  
“Yeah, he is quite dashing,” Franklin’s PA, Amanda Armitage, agreed. They all watched Lestrade run a hand through his hair, leaving it dishevelled, the short strands sticking out at all angles.  
  
“I heard somewhere that his colleagues call him the Silver Fox.” Every head turned to Jeremy, the youngest man in the room, who blushed a bit.  
  
“Oh yes, he’s got very unique hair.” They all looked at Aiden. The man had early onset baldness instead of going grey. In his youth, Aiden had been the proud owner of really beautiful dark hair that had him turning the heads of every girl he passed in the street. Most of the close-knit team sympathised.  
  
Meanwhile Lestrade was answering the reporters’ questions, fielding their searching inquiries with calm sincerity.  
  
“Oh, look! He’s married too,” observed Claire, the short blond. “What a lucky woman,” she added, enviously. Mycroft and Anthea exchanged a glance but said nothing, although a small private smile graced Anthea’s lips. Strategically placed behind the other members of his team, Mycroft’s reaction went unnoticed.   
  
“Well, you know what they say?” Paul, one of the junior members of the team, said wistfully as he returned to the table bearing a freshly filled water jug. All eyes turned to him as he added, “All the good ones are either married or gay.”   
  
“Oh, God, what a cheeky grin,” David observed. “His eyes remind me of coffee beans.” Everybody knew David had a bit of a coffee addiction.

“When I look into those eyes, all I want to do is swim in melted chocolate,” sighed Amanda dreamily. All in all she seemed to be holding up pretty well considering she had been the one to find her boss in his office, half naked, in the company of a very dead call girl. Only her quick thinking had saved her boss’ life. She had, in Mycroft’s opinion, proved herself every inch the capable government PA.   
  
Consequently the Met had given the case to Lestrade, and he and his team had subsequently worked out what must have happened. It seemed the call girl had been collateral damage. The real target had been Franklin who had, thankfully, not drunk as much of the poisoned wine as his companion had.  
  
Mycroft had organized the meeting and brought his team together as soon as the news had reached him of Franklin’s demise. They came up with a good cover story but it had taken them their combined resources and almost every waking hour to police the press and social media in case anything leaked out. Crisis over, the team was relaxing, coming down after their constant vigilance, and thus indulging a little in superficial chatter. Mycroft could forgive them their frivolity. He knew what the last few days had cost them.  
  
“Mycroft, your brother has worked with Inspector Lestrade, hasn’t he?” Aidan ashed.  
  
Mycroft cleared his throat before he answered, giving himself time to compose a suitable reply.  
“Yes, they work together occasionally,” he said guardedly.  
  
“Lucky to have met him in person,” Amanda said. “Do you know him?”  
  
Mycroft and Anthea exchanged another look. “I met him the same day that Sherlock did.” _Not exactly a lie, but not completely true either._ Mycroft had kidnapped Lestrade the same day the Inspector had arrested his baby brother for possession, but not before the newly promoted DI had solved another of his cases, this time with Sherlock’s help.  
  
“When was that?”  
  
“Oh, almost ten years now.” _Nine years, six months and twenty three wonderful days, to be precise._  
  
The Press conference wound up and came to an end with a full report of the story, suitably redacted by Mycroft and his team. Everyone began to pack their belongings, sliding documents into wallets and laptops into cases. A sudden knock on the door startled them all and the door flew open as a little girl stormed in and threw her arms around Mycroft’s legs.  
  
“Papa! Papa!” the girl shouted happily, bouncing excitedly.   
  
The whole team froze when a certain detective inspector appeared around the door in pursuit of the little girl, his expression apologetic.  
“Iris Natalie Lestrade-Holmes, what did I tell you about knocking first?” Greg lestrade’s voice was suitably severe as he glanced around him. “Sorry for the interruption, folks,” he offered, flashing his grin at the assembled company. “I’m afraid she was missing her Papa.”  
  
Mycroft’s smile was indulgent and warmed his normally chilly demeanour as he knelt to wrap his arms around his little girl.  
“It’s quite alright, Gregory. I missed her too. So, how was your week, my darling?”  
  
“It was awesome!” Iris replied. “The best part was when Daddy came home yesterday after I had seen him on the television. He read me a bedtime story.” She looked at her Daddy as she said it, and Greg smiled back at her. 

Iris suddenly became aware of the other people in the room. “Hi,” she said shyly and tried to hide behind her Papa.

“Iris, these are my colleagues, the people I work with,” Mycroft said gently. “Amanda, Claire, Paul, Jeremy, David and Aidan. Everybody, this is my daughter, Iris,” he said, then cleared his throat. “This,” Mycroft added,  turning toward his partner, “is my husband, Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade.” 

Every single ear in the room was rather red at this point but Anthea took pity on them and broke the awkward silence after a few seconds. “Hey, Iris, would you like to see what Papa has in his drawer for you this time?”

“Oo, yes!” Iris allowed Anthea to take her by the hand and lead her to the desk. “Aunty Anthea, why is everybody looking so funny at me, Daddy and Papa?”

“Because they never saw such a pretty family before,” Anthea replied with a grin. 

Jeremy recovered first. “We just saw the press conference. Have to say, it was a good job!” “Thanks,” Greg replied. “Does this mean you’ve finished here, love? Iris wants to go the park to feed the ducks.”

“Give us all five minutes and then I shall free for the whole weekend.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking about more Iris AU story but nothing is decided yet. Let me know if you would like to read more of them.


End file.
